


Always and Completely Forgiven

by idlyby



Series: Absolution [1]
Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Brotherly Angst, Gag, Gen, Handcuffs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 19:03:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idlyby/pseuds/idlyby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor and Loki make one final stop before returning to Asgard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always and Completely Forgiven

Loki’s already thin mouth has grown impossibly thinner with distaste as he sips the latté Thor placed in front of him. Every line of his body is rigid with suspicion and mistrust, and there’s an unfamiliar hint of crimson around his pupils that should by all reason warn Thor not to proceed. Thor is in no mood to be reasonable. He looks across the flimsy wooden table between them and cannot bring himself to see the monster he’s expected to take back to Asgard. All he sees is the way blood and dirt streak Loki’s porcelain skin, and the blood drying on the unforgiving edges of the gag on the tabletop between them.

“I have no want of your pity, Odinson.” Loki’s voice rasps softly in the silence. Though the café is bustling with humans and is almost unbearably bright in the morning light, the server who reminds Thor so painfully of Jane managed to seat them in a remote corner.  It’s reminiscent of Loki’s old hiding places in the dark alcoves of the palace when they were young. “It does not behove you to be so sentimental.”

Loki will never change, so bitterly proud, even in captivity.

Thor drowns yet another espresso; the human stimulant is almost laughably weak in his system, but even so tiny sparks of lightning crackle at his fingertips. Loki watches them warily, his own fingers twitching as if to reach for the staff now locked safely away in Stark Laboratories. It is the gesture of a man accustomed to warding off attacks, perpetually on the defensive. As usual, the right words stick in Thor’s tight throat. What have they come to, that Loki can win through force and Thor is left to fumble for the sort of honeyed words that slide so easily from his brother’s silver tongue.

“It’s not pity, brother,” he says at last, rougher than he wants. “I’m offering you one last chance.”

The word “brother” makes Loki draw a sharp breath and push aside his coffee, looking away quickly. A heartbeat later he gives a cold smile, and one of those dangerously gentle laughs of his that sends a chill up Thor’s spine.

“The same offer as before? To come _home_?” He bites off the word ‘home’ like it burns him. “Shall we have the same fight again, _brother_? There is nothing of interest to me on Asgard, and I scarcely believe I would be welcomed back with open arms.”

The sting is the same he’s always felt when Loki brushes him aside so coolly. Frigga tried to explain to him once that it was not in Loki’s nature to show affection or gratitude, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel it. Thor understands that as much as anyone with so drastically different a nature can, but it still pains him to watch Loki’s eyes trained on him so cold and hard, like Thor never mattered to the dark young god. Loki clearly underestimates the power he now holds in Asgard. He’s second only to Odin, and even then the All-Father rarely steps in to override his jurisdiction. Unlike Loki, Thor finds the heady rush of power more sickening than intoxicating, but he won’t regret the throne if it can win him his brother back.

“Without my intervention you will be subject to Odin’s punishments.” Loki barely responds, still smirking in that awful way of his, a frail vulnerability in his proud posture that wrenches something in Thor’s chest. “The All-Father’s anger is fearsome if unchecked.”

“And yours is not?” It comes quickly, cuttingly, calculated to hit where it will hurt the most. Loki takes a tiny sip of the latté that very well may be the last sustenance he ever consumes.

Thor isn’t aware of the tensing of his muscles or the shifting of his bones until the table splinters under his fist with a crack that should attract the attention of the whole café. He doesn’t care. Nor does he care that Loki, too, is rising, bristling, and that he, Thor, has made a terrible mistake. He should have tried to reason with Loki, to wear him down with time, but time, so rarely of consequence to Asgardians, is fleeting, and Thor’s blood is rushing in his ears.

“You are not _evil_ , brother,” he roars. “Let me help you.”

It all happens very quickly. Loki flings one hand behind him to shield them from the attention of a roomful of curious, innocent Midgardians. They’re both still too tense following the battle, reflexes and adrenaline running high. Loki’s face is stony; his eyes flash red, and his skin turns an icy blue where he stands. But before Thor can reach for Mjölnir – an instinctive reaction when he finds himself standing across from a Jötun – Loki bends forward in a fluid motion to lift the gag out of the rubble of the table, and fits it delicately over his own mouth. Blood wells around the edges where his skin fades back to its familiar ivory hue. The air is forced from Thor’s lungs with an audible huff, like he’s been hit.

He breathes his brother’s name.

Loki looks at him wearily, and his eyes are a familiar green again, filled with more emotion than he’s let show for a long time. They crinkle as if to apologize, and it makes Thor’s chest ache to see them so tender for the first time in centuries. When Loki slips the thin silver cuffs back around his own slender wrists, Thor understands the almost humility on his noble face, and the dampness clinging to his lashes that neither of them mentions. Somehow the simple gesture says more than words ever could.

_Monster. Evil._

Thor has to turn away. The guilt rolling in his stomach is sour on his tongue.

Loki drops his hands and waits silently, motionless, for Thor to cross the ruined table and come to stand at his side. Thor rests a large hand lightly between his brother’s sharp shoulder blades, and Loki trembles under his touch, shoulders hitching with what might very well be sobs. The elder propels him gently the door with feather light nudges and they pass through the throng of carefree Midgardians, invisible under Loki’s cloaking enchantment. Reluctance slowing his feet and weighing down his heart, Thor has the strangest feeling that Loki is the one leading them back to the Bifröst to face Odin’s judgment. 

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to D and to H.  
> You can find me on Tumblr at idlyby.tumblr.com


End file.
